


Home

by EdgeofFear



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Feels, Avengers Mansion, Domestic Avengers, Drinking, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, PTSD, Swearing, Team, Team Bonding, Team-Realtionship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgeofFear/pseuds/EdgeofFear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bit by bit and piece by piece the Avengers all come to realize that they're finally home. It isn't the mansion, or the team movie nights. Its knowing that there is finally someone there to accept them, faults and all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Semantics

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically little connected one-shots. A bit too disjointed to be chapters, really, but not enough to stand on their own. Please please please point out any errors to me! This will also be a a slower building fic in some aspects. Probably not much action, either, as it'll focus on the Avengers as people, not heroes.

When Tony invited everyone to stay at Stark Manor—renamed Avengers Mansion—he might have been a little drunk.

Okay, “might” and “little” were semantics.

But Pepper had broken up with him a few weeks before (She couldn’t handle dating a superhero, and he couldn’t blame her), and the Tower was lonely.

Besides, Coulson was always on their ass about “team dynamics” and “cohesive units” and other things that Tony didn’t even pretend to listen to.

Of course, when he shot off the emails to everyone, he hadn’t said anything about that.

‘Hey, moving to the mansion. Got plenty of rooms, rent free. Bring your stuff. SHIELD sucks.’ Had been closer to the actual wording of the emails.

After some cajoling and downright bribing—which he was totally fine with—they all agreed to move in. Thor was more or less stuck planet side unless there was an emergency in Asgard, and even Coulson had agreed to move in with them.

“You all need to be supervised by a mature adult.” He’d said. And Tony had laughed but hadn’t disagreed.

Bruce came first, because he was already technically living in the tower at the time Tony decided to dust off the mansion. SHIELD had made it clear that they wanted him close and that even if he decided to run off again, they could keep track of him just as easily as before.

So he came first, and helped Tony set up the mansion so that JARVIS was there. He’d helped supervise the building of the labs, and the archery range, and the gym, because he and Tony had nothing better to do while the house was under construction.

Clint, Natasha, and Coulson move in as one unit. Between them they had three duffle bags and that was it. Tony got them set up in their rooms and then bought them anything they might need. And a lot of stuff they didn’t.

No one could ever claim he didn’t do anything for his friends, though.

Thor moved in next, if it could be called that. One day he wasn’t there, and the next he appeared on the front lawn in a flash of literal lightning that had half the construction workers threatening to quit. Tony just laughed at them.

Steve was last, because Steve had himself a modest little place in Brooklyn, near where he used to live in the 40’s, and Tony had had to send Thor and Clint and Coulson to actually get the man to move his patriotic ass.

But, in the end, they all moved in.

It didn’t stop the nightmares. It didn’t stop Tony from feeling the sharp pang of missing Pepper. It didn’t stop his bad habits, either, but he never thought it would.

But it helped, having the team around. And he was happy.

He just never thought that living with other people meant actually _living_ with them and their weird habits and quirks.

In retrospect, he thought he should have known.


	2. Food?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony realizes he has house mates that don't practically live in the lab with him and the team makes some important food related decisions.

Tony jogged up the stairs from his workshop to his living room, Bruce walking up slower behind him, nose buried in a tablet as he typed out complicated equations. Because he wasn’t watching where he was going, and he wasn’t expecting Tony to stop just a foot from the staircase, Bruce ran right into him.

“The fuck are all you people doing in my house?” He asked, clearly sounding more than a bit irked. Bruce rolled his eyes and looked over Tony’s shoulder to find that, yes, he was addressing the rest of the Avengers, and Phil, who were all looking at him like he was crazy.

“You invited them.” Bruce stated blandly, and Tony just turned his head slightly and blinked at him.

“I was drinking.” He said, and Bruce nodded.

“You were drinking. And then you were working non-stop in the lab. Cap was the last to arrive and he got here about a week ago.” Bruce kept his tone soft and patient, and it didn’t escape his notice that Tony’s shoulders inched down with it.

“Way to be a shitty host, Stark.” Bruce rolled his eyes at Barton while Tony gave him the finger.

“Oh fuck you. I _can_ un-invite you, Barton.” And he sounded a little too serious for Bruce’s tastes, so Bruce prodded him in the ribs and Tony yelped before giving Bruce a brief glare and turning back to the others. “Fucking _fine_ you can stay here. What’s for dinner?”

They were arranged around a large television that had some reality show playing, and Bruce couldn’t help but notice how stiff they all looked.

“We’ve kind of been…doing our own thing for dinner every night. We just usually go out somewhere. On our own. To eat.” And Bruce had to stop the eye roll/chuckle combo that Steve’s hesitant words wanted to draw from him.

“Okay wait, no. No. You took _Thor_ out on the town and I didn’t get to see it? The fuck?” Tony looked around, wide-eyed, and Bruce snorted and shook his head.

“I’m sure you’ll get to see it, Tony. How about we order in tonight, and we can cook tomorrow?” And just how did he become the voice of reason in the super-house anyway? Wasn’t that supposed to be Phil’s job?

“That sounds good. I want pizza. Who wants pizza? Okay, pizza!” Barton grinned, but everyone nodded, and Bruce thought pizza sounded pretty good.

They agreed on the toppings, and how many pizzas to order—with Thor to feed, they ended up getting ten large pizzas and Bruce was sure the pizza boy was expecting something crazier than him when he answered the door.

Though with Tony literally right behind him, practically molded to his back to pay for it, Bruce wasn’t sure how sane they’d appeared.

Everyone started to dig in and Bruce looked around, wondering how many of them could even actually cook.

“So how many of you can cook?” And Tony had apparently been thinking the same thing, because he was the one who asked, full mouth and all.

Silence disrupted only by chewing descended before Bruce raised his hand. “I’m okay at it, I suppose.” And he was. Okay at it. Nothing fancy, that was for sure.

“I can make a mean steak on the grill.” Clint offered, grinning.

“I learned how to cook before the army.” And Steve made three.

Natasha fervently denied any ability in the kitchen, and Clint agreed, stating it would end badly for all involved. Coulson could cook, though barely, but Steve promised to teach him a few things, and Bruce could practically see Coulson’s mature adult side warring with his inner child at the prospect.

They all agreed, in the end, that Thor and Tony shouldn’t be allowed near the food process at all. For everyone else’s safety. So they set up a schedule for who would cook and when—barring emergencies and missions. Monday was Steve’s night, Tuesday Bruce’s, Wednesday Clint’s, and Thursday Steve would teach Coulson by helping him. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were decided on for “order in” days, and they all agreed that whoever was up first should make breakfast. They also all assumed that it would be Steve, since he got up early every morning to have a run and a workout. 

They also talked about food allergies, at Coulson's insistence. No one was allergic to anything, as far as they knew. Thor was a total mystery, since his experience with earth food was limited to what he ate during his time in New Mexico, shawarma, and pizza.

"Okay no, if you can eat shawarma, you can probably eat anything. And I'm sure you eat some pretty weird shit back home." Tony tipped his beer at Thor, and Thor just shrugged his shoulders.

"I am sure that many Asgardian delicacies would seem odd to mortal palates." He said, voice taking a slightly haughty tone that Tony and Clint made matching faces at.

Bruce snorted and shook his head. “I’ve been all over the world. You should see what they eat in some of the places I’ve been to. _That_ is weird food.”

After that, everyone traded stories about weird food they’d had—either good or bad. Eventually the pizza was devoured (both Thor _and_ Steve had terrifying appetites, it turned out), and everyone ended up meandering off to bed or just to relax in their own rooms. Tony and Bruce made their way back to the lab, and Bruce gently bumped Tony’s shoulder with his own as they got ready to start working again.

“So, now that you remember you have housemates, and you’ve eaten with them, are you regretting it?” His tone was only half-joking, because he was still expecting Tony to look up one day and realize who he was, _what_ he was, and throw him out.

Tony snorted. “Fuck yes.” He paused for a beat and then shook his head. “Did you _see_ the way Barton ate? Dis-fucking-gusting.” He laughed an honest laugh that Bruce had never heart, and it was so nice that he had to join in.

Maybe, Bruce thought, it could work out. Maybe.

 

 


End file.
